


Sword Dancer

by SifaShep



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Shenko - Freeform, one-sided Shakarian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SifaShep/pseuds/SifaShep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jisa Shepard (Soldier) practices her martial arts in the shuttle bay. This time, she has an audience. Written in Garrus Vakarian's POV. Implied Shenko, one-sided Shakarian</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword Dancer

_“You are an artist on the battlefield.”_

Samara’s observation had been so apt. It took skill to master so many different weapons, everything from the Krogan shotgun to the Prothean particle rifle. Garrus Vakarian had high standards when it came to long-range shooting. Not many people reached those standards.

Of course, that was before he met Jisa Shepard.

She was a soldier, just like him. No biotic powers, just an uncanny sense of hitting a target, and the strength to carry several weapons on her back. He often wondered just how she pulled it off. Shepard was such a tiny woman, even by Human standards. She carried herself with the grace of an Asari, not the marital stride of a Turian.

Shepard was an engima to almost everyone on the Normandy. Even after three years, Garrus was still discovering new things about his commander.

Every evening, he found Shepard in the shuttle bay, just out of sight of James Vega’s workspace and just far enough from the Kodiak to not cause damage. She wore a battle outfit of her people: a  _gi_  robe and black  _hakama_ pants. Garrus admired the simplicity of it, even as he questioned the flimsy material.

“Don’t knock it,” James told him. “The last time Grunt was here, she put him on his ass, and  _he_  was in full battle armor.”

“No kidding.”

“I shit you not,Garrus. You see the color of her pants? And the belt?”

“I take it that’s significant?”

Kasumi appeared on Garrus’s far side. The Japanese thief nodded as she answered,“The color of your belt shows your level in a particular martial art. White’s a beginner. Hers is black, the highest level you can get, and still there are _levels_ of black belt. Only the masters are entitled to the  _hakama_. She told me she used to teach soldiers on Arcturus Station.”

Garrus looked back at Shepard, duly impressed. Somehow, the information didn’t surprise him.

Shepard knelt on the cold deck, a sheathed sword in front of her. Slowly, she reached for it, and began a slow, intricate routine. Speed didn’t seem to a priority this time; it was _accuracy_. Every movement was precise, every turn,sweep, and slash. A hushed silence came over the shuttle deck; even Cortez paused in his repair work to watch the commander.

“Sword dancing,” Kasumi whispered. “It takes a lot of concentration to master it. I’ve seen someone move to music with a candle on her head, and she didn’t drop it.”

James whistled in a low tone. “Damn. Takes a lot of self-control.”

“No wonder she moves like she does on the battlefield,” Garrus murmured. “I take it she’s done this since childhood.”

“That’s what she told me. Not all Humans do that, though.”

James nodded in agreement and added, “It ain’t common where  _I_ come from.I couldn’t do half of that without falling on my face.”

The group watched in respectful silence. The whole routine took less than twenty minutes, although it seemed longer than that. Garrus mentally noted the attack angles, the foot placements, and the arm extensions. Now he understood where Shepard’s style came from, and how she had tailored it to suit her.

It was a moving puzzle, but all the pieces fit and made sense in the whole.

When Shepard finally sheathed the sword and bowed in thanksgiving, the entire bay erupted in applause. Startled, she whirled around to see Garrus, Kasumi and James standing in their tight group. Cortez grinned widely and saluted her with his anti-grav wrench.

“Impressive,” Garrus said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”

“I’ve done this routine for years, but I never get tired of it.” She smiled and slung the sword over her shoulder. “It helps me focus my nervous energy.”

“I can see that. That’s remarkable.”

Kasumi elbowed him. “Two compliments one after the other. That’s not easy to pry out of him.”

Shepard blushed as he stammered an apology. “I take it the Turians don’t have anything similar?”

“Not the same way. We’re a lot more…straightforward.”

“If you’d like to learn any of it, let me know. I’m always happy to teach.” She nodded to include both Kasumi and James in the offer. “I hate to just run, but I have to meet Kaidan in the Mess Hall.”

“Ahhh…a dinner date?” Kasumi teased.

“Dinner date?” Garrus repeated.

“If you call working on Spectre operation reports over dinner a date, then yeah,” Shepard said as she made a face. “At this point, I’ll take any opportunity I can get.”

“Well, then, you shouldn’t keep the Major waiting.”

Shepard blushed again and said, “I’ll see you all later.”

After Shepard made a hasty retreat into the elevator,  James turned to Garrus and said, “What’s the problem, Vakarian? You jealous?”

Garrus harrumphed. “Jealous? Me? Why would I be jealous?”

Kasumi only had a mysterious smile.

**Author's Note:**

> My first mini-fic for Mass Effect on this site. :-)


End file.
